Today, I was supposed to be married and on my honeymoon.
If I’m going to be really honest with myself, it was never going to happen. But, theoretically, that was the plan. I wish I could be enthusiastic, encouraging and uplifting. I really do. That’s who I wish I could be right now. I wish I could give you hope and pretend that I’m okay and that hard days like these aren’t that bad. You know, “The sun will come out tomorrow…” and all of that jazz.
But, that wouldn’t be honest either.
I’ve had a couple of really rough days one after the other. I got hit in the face with a coffee mug yesterday, my child decided he wouldn’t take naps anymore because climbing out of his crib was too exciting, I was bit and screamed at in the middle of Target while being stared at by everyone at the registers, my toddler dropped an eight-pound dumbbell on my toe and now it is bleeding everywhere and my toenail is about to fall off, I was turned down for my fiftieth job wihout even the chance at an interview and, on top of all of that, I will have to sit in a “divorcing parents seminar” for five hours with my ex tomorrow. Even though I grin and bear sitting with him for thirty minutes so I can supervise visitations with my son (no one else will do it because they all despise him), five hours is a long time.
Basically, life is REALLY difficult at the moment.
I think every single parent has days like these. Days where it feels like it is too hard, exhausting and impossible. Days where you really wish you could sleep through the night like the rest of the world or have a break for one hour, that there would be someone who would be willing to do that for you. But, as much as I would love to tell you that it gets easier, it doesn’t. You will always have days like this. They will always be horrible when they come and you will beg for bedtime to come so you can get a minute of peace.
In the beginning, when the bad days happened and my child was being crazy, I had tons of homework, little to no sleep and was trying to make ends meet without child support, I would scream at God. I would be in my bed, tears streaming down my face, and have my voice echoing off every surface in my skull. I felt like my head was vibrating from my desperate, angry prayers. I would cry out,
“You promised you would never give me more than we could handle, but I can’t handle this!”
Over. And over. And over again. It didn’t seem fair. None of it did. Why did I have to go through abuse? Why did I have to be a single mom? Clearly, it was more than I could handle. If I was as strong as I needed to be, then I would not feel that low and He would have at least healed my shrieking baby’s cold. Sooner or later, the streak of bad days would end and I would feel better, stronger, and more capable. But, it still made me angry because 1) I didn’t think that I deserved all the things that had happened to me and 2) In my opinion, he wasn’t keeping his promise.
God never said he wouldn’t give us more than we can handle, right? Nope. He never said that.
1 Corinthians 10:13 is where this faulty idea came from, as it was taken out of context: “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.” So, God won’t give us more TEMPTATION than we can handle. Everything else, totally out of bounds of this promise. I think this false promise that I was holding onto in some ways made me weaker. I was crying out and accusing God of breaking a promise that he never made.
Honestly, I think we are supposed to have hard times. I think that we need them.
No, I’m not a masochist. No, I don’t enjoy crying my eyes out over the dishes while screaming in my head that I can’t handle my life. I don’t think anyone does. However, how many times do we cry out to God in the good times?
When things are going well, we have a tendency to forget to praise God. We are enjoying our lives! Or, I just kind of read my devotional, let it roll off and then go to bed. When I have days like these, I cling to my Bible. I am on my knees, begging God to let me be closer to him. These times build my faith and allow me to see the bigger picture when I am out of them. I appreciate the ethereally happy times because I have truly tasted what gut-wrenching sorrow is. I can enjoy feeling peaceful because I have been majorly stressed out. And, above all, my faith is stronger in God and myself because at the end of the day, at the end of the truly bad times, I have survived.
I have made it.
So, no. Today wasn’t good. Neither was yesterday or the day before that. And I really, really hate thinking about what this day could have been and the breakdown that came with that. I don’t have any funny stories about my life to tell and, if I did, I wouldn’t be in the mood to tell them as my toe feels like it is falling off. But, I do have hope. I have hope that I am going to wake up and things are going to be better in the morning. I know that, at some point, something has got to give and things will get better. I will feel better and happy again. I also know, that even if it feels like He is worlds away right now, God has got my back. And so do my wonderful friends and family.
God might give us more than we can handle as single parents. He gives everyone more than they can handle some days. But, next time we will be able to handle more and our faith will be stronger. We just have to hold on to the hope that things are going to get better, no matter how hard our present circumstances are.
P.S: I also recommend eating tons of carbs and chocolate. That seems to make me a little happier, even on the worst of days!